The man in the wheelchair took her hand and shook it in his.

"Charles Xavier"

So, indeed; it was him. He looked thoughtful - confused, for a second - until he began to speak.

"So what brings you here? Though I assume you were looking for me to come here?"

She studied how he was sat in a wheelchair - admittedly, she did not expect the professor to be both as young as he was (she, herself, was still in her twenties and he didn't look much older) and both unable to walk. But she supposed scientific papers were less interested in talking about his age and disability and more about his research papers.

"I take it you did not expect me to be young?" he said and she glanced sideways - that's exactly what she thought, but he sounded surprisingly uncertain about his question. Despite this, he, at least, didn't seem embarrassed about her continued silence. She eventually cleared her throat.

"Good day, Sir," she began, trying to sound formal and business like "My name is Sophie Peterson. I work for a company, in biochemical research, but I have heard about your own research - in genetic, is it? I have come to ask - someone told me you would be here - about the development of...abnormal traits in a person. But bear in mind that this conversation is strictly hypothetical."

She added the last sentence on, following an afterthought. She didn't want to reveal she was asking about herself so soon. 

"Shall find somewhere to sit and talk, perhaps?" 

She gestured towards the assortment of seats a little way away from the host of bookshelves. 

"Or is your librarian particularly strict on the 'silent library' rule?"